


Not Dressed Like That

by lapsus_calami



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Frenemy, Gen, Stilinski Family Feels, bisexual!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsus_calami/pseuds/lapsus_calami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has an awkward conversation with his dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Dressed Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for the Frenemy episode.

**Not Dressed Like That**

It was the same routine every night. Well every night that Stiles was actually home and still awake when his dad went to bed. Which, for many varying and sometimes life-threatening reasons, was less and less since Scott got bit by a raging and feral lunatic and now they were running around with Derek’s leather clad super not-secret boy band chasing after a venomous lizard man whose alter ego just so happened to be the oh so charming Jackson and…right the routine.

Same routine every night when the aforementioned conditions were met. Stiles sat in his room reading, doing homework, or, more often than not lately, researching something that used to be filed firmly in the Does Not Exist column in his brain. Dad puttered around the house, went over case files, watched the news, and then came upstairs pausing at Stiles’ door to say goodnight.

Same routine.

So tonight Stiles is sitting on his bed, staring at the same page of his Chemistry book pretending to read while actually listening to his dad shuffle around downstairs and then up the steps. Back the hallway and, yep, there it is. Dad’s head pokes in his room, he smiles and Stiles feels himself smile back even as his stomach clenches. Dad says goodnight, nods his head in answer to Stiles’ own choppy head bob, and goes to pull the door closed again.

And it’s now or never because if Stiles doesn’t do it right now he probably won’t ever gather the nerve to do it again. No, that isn’t true, he would, but he would also feel much better if he did it now. Rip off the band-aid, plunge into the water, down the medicine all at once, and any other fitting metaphor.

Stiles flips the book shut and absolutely does not curl up like a child as he calls out, “Hey, uh, Dad? Can we talk for a minute?”

Deep breaths. Steady does it. It’s not a thing. It’s not anything. Just a simple question. Just a simple conversation.

Dad furrows his brows, instantly suspicious; because, duh, Stiles hasn’t flat out asked to talk to his dad in, well, practically forever. Stiles usually just plows right into the conversation other person’s desire to participate be damned. “Sure, kiddo,” he says opening the door again and moving partly into the room. “What’s up?”

Stiles fiddles with the book in his lap—which is kind of difficult to fiddle with considering the thing probably weighs about eighty pounds, which is an exaggeration, it’s more likely six or seven pounds, which basically means that his fiddling is more just shifting the heavy text from side to side—trying to sort his thoughts back out to the semblance of order he’d had them in when he decided to have this talk. “Uh, it’s, um, it’s about that night at the Jungle.”

Dad nods slightly and crosses his arm to lean against the doorframe. “Oh. You want to tell me why you were actually there?”

“What?” Stiles says a little thrown. “No, I mean, I already did. This isn’t about that part of it. It’s…uh, I mean I just wanted to ask you, wanted to ask why you were so sure about me. I mean, uh, what is it about me that makes you so sure that I’m not, uh, gay?” he finally gets out glancing up to peer at his father.

Now Dad’s eyebrows are furrowed again and he looks utterly confused. “Stiles…”

“I just mean, is it really only the way I dress?” Stiles asks over him, rushing to try and clarify because he needs his dad to understand exactly what he’s asking. Needs someone else to help him think about this so his mind can stop going in circles and circles and circles and coming back to the same conclusions that _don’t make any sense_. “Or is it how I act? Do I just scream ‘hey not gay here’ by the way I talk and walk and, and eat? Because I’m not really getting how my version of me isn’t fitting with others’ versions of me. I’m one-hundred and forty-seven pounds of lanky arms and legs and pale skin so I know I’m not exactly exuding a magnificent aura of masculinity here.”

“Stiles—”

“ _And_ while I personally think that I’m a good looking person no one has ever really shown any interest and I’m not the best judge at figuring this out but most girls don’t seem interested and no one is seriously answering me about whether I’m attractive. Not Scott. Or Allison. Even Danny. Especially Danny. And, I mean, he would know, right? So am I just totally not attractive to gay guys and that’s why or—”

“Stiles.”

“—am I missing something here because it really feels like I’m missing something and I can’t figure it out but it wasn’t really bothering me much and then we were at the club and I said we needed to have a conversation and you, you just jumped to conclusions and flat out said no and I—”

“Stiles!”

Stiles shuts his mouth instantly, swallowing to press down on the words building inside. Dad wipes a hand across his mouth standing up straighter. “Stiles the club was over a week ago. Have you been obsessing over this the whole time?”

Stiles scoffs, mildly offended. “Of course not. But I needed to think about it. So I was trying to figure it out on my own, but I can’t so I need you to help me.”

“Ahhuh. Okay,” Dad says, crossing the room swiftly and sitting at the foot of Stiles’ bed. “Let me see if I got this right. You want me to help you figure out what it is about you that makes people think you’re not gay?”

“Yes!” Stiles says throwing his hands up.

“And you spent a week thinking about this because you can’t figure it out,” Dad continues.

“Exactly.”

“And no one is taking you seriously when you ask them if you’re attractive.”

“Precisely,” Stiles says with a smile.

“Stiles, why is this bothering you so much?” Dad asks, and he looks a little concerned now. Maybe a little sad. Which is so not what Stiles intended.

“No reason,” he answers, and maybe he spoke too fast because Dad does not look convinced. “It’s just…uh, an experiment.” Stiles winces at the word choice but there’s no time to change it now and maybe Dad just won’t notice.

“An experiment?” the Sheriff asks and Stiles really should know better by now.

“Uh, yeah, like, for science,” Stiles mutters picking at the cover of the book.

Dad sighs. “All right, kiddo. Here’s the deal I, and probably many other people, know you’re not gay because you sing high praises to a lovely girl named Lydia Martin. Sing praises to the point of correcting everyone who says she’s a redhead and not strawberry blonde. Okay? It’s no secret how you feel about her.”

Stiles nods because, yeah, he’s considered that, but that would mean everyone is missing out on a crucial part of information. And how could everyone be missing out on the _same_ piece of information? Well two pieces really. One, Lydia is great and the Ten-Year Wooing Plan is still going along very nicely, thank you very much, even if it’s a few years behind schedule. And, two, in the mean time he still has eyes and needs like every other teenage boy. And maybe some recent events in his life have caused him to reconsider his life very, very closely. Like a particular dip in a pool or watching a man get crushed by his jeep. It changes a person’s life perspective, okay?

So, Lydia, still the only girl for him. Except Stiles is maybe considering that he picked her out of a much wider pool of people than he originally thought.

“Stiles?” Dad nudges his knee and, yep, he’s been quiet too long because Dad is back to looking concerned. “What is this really about?”

Stiles swallows and focuses on scratching the remains of a sticker on his book. “It’s just, you didn’t even consider the idea. Not even for a second.”

Dad frowns, “Did you want me to?”

Stiles shrugs and says nothing. The sticker remains are almost gone.

“Stiles, are you gay?” Dad asks and he sounds really sincere. Stiles glances up, assesses the openness on his dad’s face and shakes his head silently. “Okay, so what are you trying to tell me here? Because you’re trying to tell me something and I’m sorry I’m not getting it.”

“I’m, uh, trying to tell you I might like, um, cats and chickens?”

Dad blinks. “What?”

“I like show tunes and musicals?”

“Still not following, kiddo.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m sitting on the fence. I’m a switch hitter. I bat for both teams.”

Dad’s face is still blank.

“Bisexual, Dad, I’m trying to say I’m bisexual.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr


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